


filthy

by lemqnie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Miya Atsumu, Blood Kink, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Explicit Language, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, Mild Blood, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Roughhousing, Size Difference, Size Kink, Subspace, Top Bokuto Koutarou, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemqnie/pseuds/lemqnie
Summary: Wherein Atsumu acts out and Bokuto shows him his place.Inspired by twitter user @OM1KUN: "i just wanna see bokuto mad at atsumu n den,,,.,, HAHAHAH it ends with HAHHAHA *cough* heated *cOUGH* se- *COUGH* x"
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 297





	filthy

**Author's Note:**

> for: iris, vee, bella, and christine x 
> 
> i literally started shipping bokuatsu at 5:40am yesterday and decided to write this. it's been 27 hours AND its my first time writing smut... so... um... enjoy
> 
> twitter: lemqnie

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu clenches his jaw, eyes fixed at the door. 

The rest of the national team had left. With the Olympics creeping closer and closer, Iwaizumi had restructured their training regime into an even more complex and taxing one. It has only been a week but Atsumu has lost count of the rolls of muscle tape he and his team have gone through.

Today was just as unrelenting as the past few days and Atsumu, high strung as he is, holds on. He’s a professional, for fuck’s sake. He knows how to handle change. 

“Atsumu.”

He bites his tongue. There was no use in pelting his _fucking dipshit_ of a teammate with his scathing thoughts—if Osamu had done one thing right before they parted ways as teenagers, it was reminding Atsumu to never fall slave to his whims. _Especially_ when he’s furious. 

“Ignore me all you want but you know whose fault that was back there.”

He knows that. He knows that and _yet._

Atsumu whirls. “Oh yeah? Whose?”

“If you have to ask me that, then you’re stupider than I thought.”

“As if,” Atsumu scoffs, “ya know what everyone calls you behind yer back right, _Bokkun_?”

Bokuto is a little way shorter than him but when he steps closer, Atsumu suppresses the urge to step back. He’s not used to this—this version of Bokuto that no one knows exists. This variant whose gilded eyes are dim and shadowed, whose head is held low, who is _silent_. 

Bokuto tilts his head up. “Yeah? What do they call me?” Then, as if an afterthought, Bokuto spits out his name, “ _Miya._ ”

Atsumu feels the sparks of electricity at his fingertips, his entire being buzzing with the ire bubbling in the pits of his stomach. He nearly laughs. His control is slipping between his fingers like sand--dry and corrosive. 

“Yer a fuckin’ airhead, asshole. What ya did back there? Fuckin’ dick move and ya know that. I don’t hafta give a shit if my sets are lower than yer used to. I _don’t_ but I do and yer always on my ass about it even after I do all of this for ya. News fuckin’ flash, I am not yer personal setter. Why don’t ya go back to yer high school sweetheart since ya need someone to bend over for ya so badly?”

Atsumu’s panting, his chest heaves violently by the time he’s done. 

The locker room is humid. A cloak of mist hangs above them from the team’s showers earlier. Atsumu didn’t take one, but his neck is dampening with sweat in Bokuto’s silence. 

No, Atsumu thinks. Silence isn’t the right word. 

He doesn’t know what is until Bokuto advances at him, wringing his shirt’s collar, and smashes him against the wooden lockers. 

Atsumu takes a second before he punches the man’s chest, his other hand gripping at the restraint. “Fuckin’—get off me!”

“Is that what you think?” Bokuto’s voice is low and when Atsumu looks at him, he understands. 

Bokuto is _murderous_. 

There’s a scowl where his usual grin is, a slip of canines which glint under the cold lighting. 

But Atsumu isn’t deterred. His blood is boiling. He wrenches Bokuto’s fingers out of his shirt and growls, “It’s what I fucken know.”

Bokuto regards him with that sickening impassivity and Atsumu nearly rips him a new one when Bokuto’s arm flies out, fingers engulfing Atsumu’s hot neck in seconds before Atsumu’s world spins. A resounding crack invades the room as his back meets the floor.

Bokuto towers over him, his thick fingers pinning Atsumu down by his throat. The harder Atsumu struggles, the stronger his grip becomes so Atsumu settles for glaring at the man. He can’t help but jerk away when Bokuto swoops down to face him, their noses brushing together as a feral grin overtakes Bokuto’s face. 

Atsumu wishes he can say that it looks wrong, but Bokuto seems to be in his _element._ He curses to himself, just how much does he not know about his teammate?

“Well, Miya- _kun_ you might want to get your brain checked. Oh, and maybe sew your mouth while you’re at it since you keep talking so much bullshit.”

“Fuck y—”

Atsumu’s head rings when Bokuto picks him up by the neck and throws him down again. He groans and Bokuto’s dark eyes glint in delight before he breaks into a cold guffaw. 

“I’m not finished.”

Atsumu’s breaths come in short, staggered gasps. He thinks he might have a concussion. The lights are blaring and he shuts his eyes to keep them out as his head births a dull ache. Atsumu’s eyes snap open with the slap across his face. 

“You look at me when I’m talking to you,” Bokuto snarls. His eyes are steady on Atsumu but even then the blond could tell the internal frenzied mania Bokuto is masking. It bleeds onto his face, to Atsumu’s amusement and fear, in the brightness of his eyes and his leer. 

Just as he lets his mind wander, Bokuto’s hold around his windpipe tightens. 

“You nearly punched Hinata and if I didn’t stop you, I’m sure you would’ve started a fight with the whole team. Then you were all sulky and your sets went to shit. After I corrected you, you cussed me out in front of the whole team. _Now,_ who’s the dickhead?”

Atsumu’s barely struggling at this point. Something about the fingers around his neck had his thoughts dissipating. 

“Answer,” Bokuto orders, tilting Atsumu’s head up with a rough yank. The blond groans, eyes lolling backward as he tries to muster up a response.

It’s hard. It’s so fucking difficult because he can’t _concentrate_. 

The rage in him churns into something slow. Heavy and dangerous. Atsumu rolls his eyes back to their sockets, Bokuto a blurry figure on top of him. His glare’s still alight with the same vehemence as earlier. There’s a ghost of a snarl on his lips and Atsumu’s coherence collides into him like a wave. Violent. 

“Ya didn’t have to fuckin’ punch me in front of everyone, jackass. Coach would’ve never let me go that far,” he settles into a mutter. “D’ya know how shit it is to be someone’s understudy?”

Bokuto’s on top of him, fingers slightly loosening around his neck. Atsumu inhales, savouring the drag when Bokuto retracts his mercy and squeezes Atsumu’s larynx.

“Egoistic bastard,” Bokuto growls as he crashes their lips together.

Atsumu’s nose flares when Bokuto ravages his mouth. It’s wet and messy, saliva dribbling at the sides of his lips as he tries to keep up, but it's hot. Teeth gnashing and Bokuto’s fingers are still robbing him of air. A tiny garbled noise escapes him and Bokuto pulls back, his eyes wilder than ever as he stares the man down. Atsumu is clawing at Bokuto’s fingers, a skinny streak of blood falling down his wrist from where Atsumu had dug his nails in. 

Bokuto laughs breathlessly as he loosens his grip. In Atsumu’s relief, he throws his head back, a small moan absconds him—quick and aborted before Atsumu seals his lips together. Bokuto observes the movement keenly before his eyes flit up to meet the blond’s. The man reaches up with his free hand, he’s now straddling Atsumu’s chest with his thick thighs, and pinches Atsumu’s jaw until his mouth falls open. 

“You don’t get to shut up now. Not after running your mouth all day.”

“Yeah?” Atsumu bites right back. “Ya can’t fuckin’ make me.”

Bokuto looks down at him and snorts. “We’ll see about that.”

Atsumu’s about to retort when Bokuto leaps off him, twist him around, and forces him up until his back hit Bokuto’s chest. Atsumu’s sure if he leans back, his head would very much meet Bokuto’s meaty shoulder and suppresses a shudder. Bokuto mouths at his neck, a tight hand snaking around Atsumu’s waist. A leash. 

The man nips at his neck before he bites down at the tendon, hard enough for Atsumu to writhe. Bokuto’s arm is a vice and holds him in place even as he’s struggling to get free. When he lets go, Atsumu feels something slide down his neck. 

“That’s a shame,” Bokuto murmurs from behind. “You’re bleeding already.”

Atsumu’s shivering and cold sweat collect at his jaw. His vision is blurry and the floor tiles below him sway like a kaleidoscope. He barely registers himself going limp before he feels something collect him. Rather, someone. Bokuto’s grip on his shirt is the only thing retaining his posture and he dangles mid-air like a strung puppet. 

“Tired?” Bokuto hums. Atsumu’s gathering his consciousness, the smallest increments he could find, and turns his neck around (the bite wound a sharp sting) to face his teammate. Bokuto’s hooded eyes eat him up alive and that’s when Atsumu throws on his lopsided grin and spits on his face. 

“Fuck you.”

A tense moment of silence passes before Bokuto lets him go, sending him crashing onto the floor. Atsumu doesn’t wince this time but his head throbs at impact. He expects to feel those rough hands on him once more but opens his eyes in their absence. 

Bokuto looms over him, staring down at him with a reserve that wasn’t there just a few seconds ago. Atsumu chokes on an inhale and coughs. Bokuto’s jaw clicks as he looks and Atsumu feels his ire return. 

“Ya just gonna stand there or?”

“I…” Bokuto starts then looks away. He scratches the back of his neck. Atsumu thinks uncertainty looks ugly on him. “I don’t want to force anything. If we’re doing this I need to know you actually want it.”

Atsumu’s gaze stays on him for a minute before he rolls his eyes and sits on his haunches.

“Jeez,” he mutters as he stands up. He wobbles slightly, Bokuto’s arms reach out for support but Atsumu ignores him. He places a hand on each of Bokuto’s shoulders and ushers him to the wooden bench in the middle of the room. 

The bench his teammates had just been on a few minutes ago. 

Something hot in him bubbles. Not ire, no… 

Bokuto plops down and Atsumu catches a glimpse of the Bokuto he knows. The cheerful, exuberant ace who brightens up the entire room as he walks in. The kind man who picks up his kiddy fans and takes pictures with them with his signature beam. The teammate who splurges on team dinners just to hang out with his partners, no--friends, after practice. The star of the team. 

Not the man who was throwing Atsumu around just a second earlier. 

He has a second to himself to really think. Was this a box he wanted to open? And if it wasn’t, could he deal with its repercussions? 

Bokuto’s hair is down, wet from the shower he took earlier, and they drape charmingly over his forehead and downcast eyes. 

Then he thinks, _fuck it_ , and straddles the man. 

Bokuto’s hands find his waist immediately and Atsumu loops his arms around his neck before he meets his eyes. There are a thousand questions in Bokuto’s gaze but Atsumu silences each of them when he locks their lips together and moans his name. 

“Bokkun,” he murmurs against Bokuto’s lips. “Fuck me.”

Something flashes in Bokuto’s eyes, a sliver of that dangerous man he saw earlier returns, and Atsumu dick twitches. Bokuto draws Atsumu till they’re flushed against each other and starts nipping along Atsumu’s neck. His grip is crushing and Atsumu winces but moans as he feels Bokuto’s teeth tracking lower. He comes to when Bokuto’s lips tear themselves from his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks just as Bokuto reaches up and rips Atsumu’s shirt in two. The blond gawks. “What the fuck! Do ya know how much that cos—”

He gasps, desperate and loud, when Bokuto latches onto his nipple and _sucks_. Arching his back, Atsumu whines and seizes Bokuto’s damp hair for purchase. Bokuto emits a low grunt, the rumble in his chest sending vibrations up Atsumu’s spine. 

Bokuto shifts Atsumu on his lap with one swift push and their dicks brush against each other. Atsumu moans into Bokuto’s wet hair and Bokuto pants harshly against his collar. The man stalls for a moment but the hesitance was enough for Atsumu to snap his head up. 

“Yer so much slower now. Ya exhausted already?” Atsumu goes to chuckle but feels his grin slapped off his face as Bokuto’s palm strikes his face. The blond goes to cradle his face and complains until he sees Bokuto’s dilated pupils and stern brows. He goes to shut his mouth, the action didn’t escape Bokuto who observes with a delighted huff. 

“Good,” he praises, deep and low. It shoots a spark up Atsumu’s neck. He doesn’t quiver. “Get on the floor and kneel.”

To Atsumu’s own surprise, he follows. The floor is cold even against his denim-clad skin. Down here, the light hits Bokuto’s face into a godly plane. His sharp jaw is enhanced by the stretch of shadow below it, the bridge of his nose taller. Atsumu gulps as he reaches out to unbutton Bokuto’s jeans. 

They open in an instant, Bokuto’s bulge freeing from its tight constraint and the man lets out a guttural groan as Atsumu’s mouth waters. His hands hover slightly above the hem of Bokuto’s trousers and he stares unblinkingly at Bokuto’s crotch until the man himself guides Atsumu’s hands lower where they meet denim. The blond wastes no time, tugging at Bokuto’s jeans until they catch at the dip of ass. Atsumu snivels, his eyes pricking at the setback until Bokuto lifts himself from the bench, sending the jeans down in a single swoop. 

Atsumu’s eyes track the twitch of Bokuto’s thick girth behind his boxers before he’s surging forwards--falling, falling until he’s mouthing at it, wetting the outline with his drool. He yelps when his head is yanked back, Atsumu’s scalp stings. Bokuto glares down at him. 

He snarls, “Did I say you could slobber all over me?”

The stinging at his eyes return and realisation wallops him in an instant—they’re _tears._ Atsumu moves to hastily wipe them away, shame searing through his core but Bokuto stops him just as quickly. A firm hand wraps around his wrist and Atsumu’s cheeks redden as they grow increasingly wetter. Bokuto’s free hand cradles his chin until Atsumu has to look up at him. 

The look on his face is...Atsumu doesn’t know enough words to describe him. No, he does. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t at least smart. Atsumu’s intelligence isn’t the problem here, no, it’s Bokuto. 

He’s _smiling_.

“Pretty,” he says in a ragged whisper. Atsumu’s boxers grow wetter as tears freefall down his face. Bokuto’s fingers brush them away but more keeps coming and Atsumu leans into the man’s rough palm when he is offered. “You want me to fuck your throat that bad?”

Atsumu _weeps._ Bokuto gapes before he shucks off his underwear and breaches past the blond’s lips without a moment’s hesitance. 

Atsumu chokes, of course he does, and that only sends a new tidal wave down his face. He’s not even sure if he’s doing this right--he’s had multiple partners in the past, both men and women who caught his eyes, but this...this is uncharted territory. 

He’s drooling all over Bokuto’s thick cock. The star himself pounds his mouth until Atsumu has to pull off, gasping for air. Bokuto’s harsh pants are amplified in the empty room and Atsumu brings himself to return, lolling his tongue out and staring at Bokuto in invitation. 

Finally, the man _moans,_ deep and obscene, before his fingers return to the mop of blond hair and guide his dick back inside Atsumu’s mouth. 

They go on like this, Atsumu’s gag reflex vaporising with time. Each time Bokuto's cock meets the back of his throat, he mewls. Bokuto unravels under his mouth and Atsumu's chest bursts with pride. He shuts his eyes and hollows his cheeks, moving up and down the man’s shaft in earnest before Bokuto’s shoving him off. 

Atsumu falls on his ass, eyes wide. He sees Bokuto latch a vice grip on the base of his cock as he furrows down at his crotch. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when that golden gaze snaps to him. 

“You nearly made me cum,” Bokuto hisses.

“Isn’t that the point?”

Bokuto shuts him up with a look. “Don’t get clever with me. Strip.”

Atsumu rises to his feet and tries very hard to not fall. He succeeds, god bless for small mercies, and goes to remove his ripped shirt. When done, he rids himself off his jeans and stands with his arms across his front. 

_Jesus_ , he thinks, _what the fuck happened_?

Atsumu had never been shy in bed. Congruent to popular beliefs, Atsumu prides himself in satisfying his partners. Multiple. He’s a bedroom veteran at this point. Getting his dick wet was just a rite of passage. 

At twenty-six, his days of whoring around were cut short with his recruitment to the National Team. 

Maybe it’s cause it’s been a whole year since he last fucked around. 

Yeah, maybe that’s why.

But when Bokuto stands up to meet him, strong arms circling around his waist to pull him closer into a searing kiss, Atsumu knows that’s not true. 

Bokuto drags them back to the bench, guides him down to his lap and a thrill runs up Atsumu’s spine when he feels Bokuto’s cock against the fabric of his boxers, curving up the cleft of his ass. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Bokuto commands. Atsumu nods wordlessly before he lets Bokuto pull his face down closer, _closer._

Their lips melt against each other as they exchange heavy pants. Atsumu rolls his hips and Bokuto grunts before the blond dives into swallow the sound with a pleased hum. He doesn’t realise the high-pitched whimpers were his until Bokuto swallows them whole. Atsumu slips his boxers off, shuddering at the wintry air that greets him. Bokuto pauses his trail of hickeys down Atsumu’s chest to hold him.

“You’re hot,” Bokuto blurts out. 

Atsumu’s eyes crinkle at the sides as he grins. “Yer not too bad yerself, big man.”

Bokuto lets something out that’s too similar to a scoff but Atsumu’s spared no time to analyse when he feels a vice grip around his cock. He hisses at the contact and cries when Bokuto begins jerking him off in harsh strokes. 

“I…” Atsumu tries and fails. His head is light, he can’t really feel his legs, and words are completely out of reach. He’s gasping at every twist Bokuto’s hand brings him to and moans when Bokuto’s fat thumb rubs at the slit. “Fuck.” 

He lets himself fall until his left cheeks hit Bokuto’s broad shoulder with a thump. It does nothing to slow his teammate down. He’s wheezing against Bokuto’s neck and the man is still relentlessly pumping him. Atsumu’s whines increase in pitch until he’s convulsing in Bokuto’s bare lap. 

“Fuck, fuck, Bokkun--wait!” 

White, hot pleasure builds deep inside his stomach, Atsumu sobs. His hands grapple up Bokuto’s chest until they reach his head and the blond _pulls._ A breathy moan tumbles past the ace’s lips, Atsumu's trembling. 

Bokuto lets the blond struggle against him, but absolutely does not let him escape. His arm is on Atsumu’s back, pushing him close with just enough space for Atsumu’s dick and his hand. 

“B-bokkun, I--”

Atsumu pushes against him as hard as he could, but Bokuto always had more muscle than him. The man’s hand speeds up, his grip a little tighter around the blond’s leaking cock and Atsumu’s breath comes out in heaves. He’s drooling all over Bokuto’s clothed shoulder, feels the slick of his spit as he slides his cheek across the broad expanse. In a last attempt to flee, Atsumu goes in for a bite but sharply inhales as his orgasm crashes into him.

Bokuto’s hand falls from his dick and Atsumu feels more than he hears the man’s winded laugh. “Use your words. You can do that, can’t you?” 

“Fucker,” Atsumu croaks at the taunt. His dick is still throbbing and he goes to hide his face in the juncture between Bokuto’s thick neck and shoulder. 

He limps against Bokuto’s chest as he catches his breath, exhaling harshly onto the man’s back and Bokuto’s large hands rub soothing circles before the man picks him up. Almost automatically, his legs go to encircle Bokuto’s waist as the man stands before he’s lowering Atsumu on the floor and leaving him. 

An aborted noise crawls its way up his throat. “Wait, wait. Where ya goin’?” 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Atsumu nods wearily, still straining his neck to ogle at Bokuto’s exposed thighs--the muscular cage he wants to be under. God, he’s absolutely fucking _wrecked_. 

“Good boy.” Bokuto rewards him with a smile and Atsumu’s whole body shudders at the praise. 

True to his word, Bokuto returns with a condom packet in one hand and a vial of lube in the other. Atsumu does his best to quirk his brow and Bokuto accepts his query in stride. 

“Like to go to clubs sometimes,” he explains as he rips the packet open with his teeth. Atsumu relishes the sight, mouth watering when Bokuto slips it on his throbbing dick. His hole clenches. 

Atsumu pauses before he drops his head down onto the tiles. “Didn’t know ya had it in ya, big boy. What would the team say if they knew ya were a big pervert this whole time?”

“Ha! Well,” Bokuto starts as he squeezes a dollop of lube onto his palm, enough to make his fingers shine under the locker room lights. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

The man doesn’t warn him--no, he pistons his fingers (two) into Atsumu and leaves no room for adjustment. 

It burns.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You have such a dirty mouth.”

“Quit yer backtalk,” Atsumu snaps, “yer just--Ah! Yer just as filthy!”

His eyes roll back at a particularly sharp jab. He’s blubbering, an incoherent mess on the floor, falling apart under Bokuto’s brutal pace and thick fingers. His hands are moving around, gripping at nothing--seeking purchase, something to hold onto. Anything to ground him. He’s hyper aware of the force Bokuto’s fingering him with, feels his entire body jerk up and down to meet him, the sweltering friction between his bare back and the tile floors.

Atsumu’s gasping for air by the time Bokuto considers him open enough. 

“Don’t scream,” is all Bokuto says before he pushes in. 

Atsumu’s hand flies to his mouth and he sinks his teeth down, hard. Bokuto doesn’t stop, he pounds inside then drags his cock out to the hilt before slamming back down again. Atsumu’s head bobs with the thrust. He shuts his eyes closed, biting his arm to keep the scream inside. 

“Quiet--ha, quiet now?” 

“Ya fuckin’ wish,” Atsumu sneers into his arm before he gasps. 

Bokuto huffs before he reaches up to tear Atsumu’s arm away from his face. As soon as his gag disappears, Atsumu’s panting wildly--tongue drooping past his lips, swaying with the movement as Bokuto drives into him again and again and again. 

The man captures his lips in a blistering kiss, slotting their lips together in a clash of teeth and wet tongues. His hips piston fiercely as a wanton mewl escapes Atsumu. The blond’s eyes flutter shut and only open when he feels the piercing throb on his arm. Atsumu turns his head to the side, head rocking synchronously with Bokuto’s thrusts, and laughs. There’s a smear of fresh crimson around his bite mark. 

Bokuto’s hips falter, slowing into a nice rhythm. Atsumu purrs at the delicious drag and falls quiet when he sees Bokuto’s intent gaze. He’s about to question it when Bokuto plunges in and sucks on his wound. 

“Jesus,” Atsumu groans, the suction sending up a spark of blinding pleasure down his toes. He curls them as Bokuto laps up the blood around the bite and draws back with a pleased smile. “Yer so fuckin’ sick. What else are ya into, tough guy?”

Bokuto seats himself deep in Atsumu before he responds. “You’re one to talk. Tough guy? Big man? _Big_ guy?”

Atsumu’s faltering exhale didn’t elude him. Bokuto leans forwards and places a hand on each side of Atsumu’s face, caging him with his biceps. Atsumu gulps. 

“Bet you like this,” Bokuto drawls, a twisted smirk on his face. Atsumu wants to knock him down a peg or kiss him, he can’t decide. “Bet you absolutely lose it seeing a bigger guy pin you down. What other kinks have you got up your sleeve, _Atsumu_?” 

Atsumu shivers before he ropes his hands around Bokuto’s neck and pulls him down. “Why don’t ya find out yerself?”

Bokuto’s smashes their lips together and returns to fucking Atsumu into hell and back. The blond throws his head back, gagging on his own saliva. For a moment, they stay like this until Bokuto runs one beefy arm under Atsumu’s back and _lifts_ his hips up, ramming straight into Atsumu’s prostate. 

“Ah, fuck!” 

Atsumu’s wailing, hanging onto Bokuto’s neck who pants against his neck before ravishing the pale skin with his teeth. 

He’s seeing stars, curling his toes at every piston. It’s building up--that familiar heat deep in the pits of his core. His blood is boiling but for an entirely different reason. He buries his nose into his own shoulder, gasping for air then Bokuto rolls his hips and Atsumu tenses. 

He’s frantic, meeting Bokuto’s sharp hip bones in every thrust. “Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Atsumu, too high on ecstasy, doesn’t realise Bokuto’s stopping until he feels his dick slip out. The blond blinks, ass clenching down on nothing, before he’s grabbing at Bokuto’s face who wrenches his hands away. 

“Wait, wait! No,” Atsumu groans. Bokuto sits back on his heels and observes him quietly. Atsumu wipes the drool off the side of his face and raises himself on his elbows. “Why did ya pull out? I was just gettin’ there!” 

“Getting where?”

“To my--to cum! Where the fuck else?”

“You sure you want to cum?” 

“Am I sure,” Atsumu screeches. He holds his sopping member in one hand and tugs. “Do I look fucking sure to ya?”

Bokuto’s silent for a while. Atsumu takes the time to glare at him, at his body and those deep hollows behind his clavicle, and tries very very hard to not salivate. He keeps the stern furrow of his brows until Bokuto wipes off his stoic face for elation.

A pure smile.

Atsumu tries not to feel the whiplash but it’s inescapable. He stammers on his next inhale and stutters through the exhale. 

Bokuto’s smiling at him as if they were at practice and Atsumu had just given him the perfect toss which aligned with his straight. Beads of sweat are stuck around his temple and his moist hair has gotten even wetter, but the brightness of that grin eclipses all other aspects of the man. Bokuto’s golden eyes are light, twinkling at him. 

Atsumu coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. 

_Ah, what the fuck?_

“You wanna cum?” Bokuto asks again, the playful grin stretching into something else. Atsumu’s breath hitches as he sees it grow dark, sees the light in Bokuto’s eyes dim as he switches. A predator. “Then beg.”

Atsumu sits upright, the motion dizzying him momentarily before he hisses, “Are you insane?”

“You wanna cum so bad, then beg.”

“I’m not going to fucking beg! Who the fuck do ya think I am?”

Bokuto bites his lip before he shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He moves to stand but Atsumu chases after him. Falling forwards on all fours, he reaches a hand out to the back of Bokuto’s calf. “Wait, fuckin’ hell. Fine! What d’ya mean beg?”

Bokuto turns, looking down at him and smiles. “Beg for my cock. Beg me to fuck you.” Atsumu gulps as the man lowers himself down until they’re eye-to-eye. “Use your stupid fucking mouth like before. I want to see you cry.”

“But I cried before,” Atsumu says with a huff. 

Bokuto laughs, caressing Atsumu’s stubbly chin. He really needs to shave. 

“Yes, and you came before, right? You don’t wanna cum again?”

Atsumu leans into Bokuto’s hand and sighs. “I can’t… I can’t make myself cry like on command or somethin’. Dunno how.”

“Don’t force it,” Bokuto hums. “Just let yourself fall.”

_Just let myself fall?_

Atsumu blinks and meets Bokuto’s Cheshire grin with hesitance. “Okay. I, uh… I kinda need ya to choke me.”

“Say less.”

Bokuto’s fingers find their spot around his neck in an instant and they send him back down to the tiles. Atsumu doesn’t bother breathing, letting the blaze of asphyxiation light him. He croaks around a moan when he sees the muscles running up Bokuto’s arm flex as his grip tightens. “Please…”

“Can’t really hear you.”

“Please,” Atsumu wheezes through a cough when Bokuto’s grip loosens slightly. “Fuck me.”

Bokuto brings his free arm to his chin, stroking it before he swoops down until their cheeks are touching. Atsumu shivers when he feels Bokuto’s hot breath on his ear.

“No, no. I know you can do better,” Bokuto whispers. “Come on, Tsumu. Let yourself go. Wanna see my good boy.”

Moments of peace and tranquility were a rarity to him. This, everyone knew. But somehow, under Bokuto’s gruff commands, his brain had switched off and sent him flying. 

The lightness he felt earlier returned tenfold. It washes over him like cold water, and he’s sinking and sinking. His brain is static. He doesn’t, _can’t_ , register anything other than the feel of Bokuto plush against him and Bokuto’s voice. He’s clambering up to pull them closer together and Bokuto’s arm is there to support him, holding the both of them up with one thick arm. 

“Tsumu?”

Atsumu lets out a pleased sigh, nosing along Bokuto’s jaw. “Hm?”

Bokuto pulls the both of them up until they’re sitting on the floor, Atsumu still clinging onto him. Any space between them is blasphemous. Bokuto pats his back before he pulls the man away from him. The blond frowns wearily. 

“Ah,” Bokuto groans as he takes one hand to brush away Atsumu’s fringe. “Look at you. Did you go down?”

Atsumu doesn’t really know, but he feels like he’s floating so he nods. Bokuto croons. 

“Listening to my orders. Such a good boy.”

The blond lights up, beaming at Bokuto. He’s preening, trying his best to reach for Bokuto’s shirt--which, why is he still wearing that? Atsumu frowns at it, tugging at the fabric until Bokuto drags his wrist away. 

“You wanna see my shirt off?”

“Yes,” Atsumu whimpers. “Yes, yes. Please, I…” 

Bokuto laughs before he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and pulls up, peeling the offensive piece of clothing from his tan skin. Atsumu swallows the spit collecting in his mouth and reaches out to run his hands over Bokuto’s chiseled upper body. He lines his pectorals, digging into the indents of his abs and brushes up the man’s triceps. 

“Liking what you see?”

Atsumu nods fervently. Bokuto laughs, Atsumu’s dick twitches against his abdomen. 

Bokuto grabs at his dick and Atsumu hisses, hands flying to Bokuto’s shoulder. “Still rock hard. Let’s try this again, hm? Do you wanna cum?”

“Yes. Yes, I wanna… please. Need you,” Atsumu whines needily. “Bokkun…”

“You sure?”

Atsumu’s gaping hole clenches--thinks of Bokuto deserting him hard and desperate, and he feels it--that burn at the back of his eyes, the warmth that accompanies them before the cold tears kiss his face. Bokuto gasps as he sees it, watching each tear track down Atsumu’s flushed skin raptly. Atsumu’s crying, small sobs jumping out of him. 

“Please.”

“How can I say no to that?” Bokuto asks raspily before he sets Atsumu on his lap, lining his dick with Atsumu’s hot heat and plunging home. 

The blond chokes as Bokuto’s hands find his waist. Within seconds, he picks up his rhythm to match what was and Atsumu feels like he’s dissolving. 

“Yes, so good,” Atsumu cries, the tears running down. “More, more, please.”

Bokuto moans, nipping at Atsumu’s exposed neck before lifting Atsumu’s hips and slamming down again. Grunts, smacking, Bokuto’s nails digging into Atsumu’s hips as he forces the man up and down his shaft like a sex toy. 

“You look so fuckin’ dumb right now,” Bokuto grunts, “begging for my cock like a whore.”

Atsumu’s eyes roll back as Bokuto’s insults pelt him. He’s nodding, blinking the tears away as fresh ones form. 

“You should just quit as a--ah, ha, fuck--as a professional player. Just be my cock sleeve. That’s all you’re good for, hm?”

Atsumu squeezes around Bokuto and the man chokes.

Atsumu doesn’t know how long they last, don’t even remember when he came and when Bokuto topples over, hips stuttering as he shoots his load into the blond. 

He’s sweaty and tired, the lights above him are glaring and Bokuto’s at his side, gasping for air. His eyes follow the fall and rise of his chest before he tears them away. Atsumu’s still floating, but he feels himself slowly drift down to the ground. 

It feels like wading through a calm river. He sees the shore--feels the edges of his consciousness at his fingertips, but takes his sweet time to reach it. 

When he does regain it, Bokuto’s already sitting up and looking over him with concern. His hair is sticking in every direction and his lips are swollen. His chest, once cleaned and dried, is now wet. 

“You alright, Tsum-tsum?”

Atsumu laughs into his hands at the bizarre question and pushes himself up. “Ya fuckin’ reek. Go shower.”

Bokuto’s eyes flicker down to his chest and takes a whiff before he meets Atsumu’s eyes. There’s a glint in them that sends a thrill down Atsumu’s arms. 

“Join me?”

Atsumu stares and stares before he throws his head back and laughs. He wipes the dried tears from his eyes and wheezes, “For fuck’s sake.” 

He stands, wobbling slightly, and reaches a hand to Bokuto who’s staring avidly at him. The thrums of pleasure, remnants of their session, are dull but present. He smiles. 

“Come on then.”  
  



End file.
